When I was a child, I would watch my mom navigate what she called “business calls.”  They usually consisted of calls to the bank, making doctor’s appointments, etc.  When she was on the phone, we were to be quiet (something own children haven’t quite understood).  My mother made it look sophisticated and fun.  Like it was easy.  I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I have spent hours on the phone everyday the last few weeks.  Many days, I’ve been refereeing between the my daughter’s primary care doctor, the military health insurance, and specialty clinics.  Instead of simply speaking with each other, I have had to relay messages back and forth to make sure referrals are put in and properly approved, and that appointments are booked properly.  It hasn’t been fun.  It’s been nagging and scary and intense.

In my house, the next two weeks are critical on so many levels.  Monday and Tuesday, we find out some news that my husband and I have been waiting on for a year.  Though we know the news will likely be bad, I find my hopes rising.  I can’t help it.  I tend to be recklessly and uncontrollably optimistic sometimes.  Monday, we have a specialty appointment for my sweet girl, who’s having several issues right now.  And then we have another appointment a week later.

I’m so stressed right now.  So tired.  I am edgy and jumpy.  And I’m trying to be faithful.  I know He has a great plan for us.  I believe that with everything within me.  But the worry about my child preys on my heart.  The fear of the news this week rattles me.  I have been progressively disconnecting with some social media and other things to hunker down and deal with life.  To connect with the precious souls in this house.

Because they are what anchors me.  The man I married who found me this morning folding laundry and praying a secretly desperate rosary, just to sit and ask me how I’m doing.  The three girls who are excited about the family of cardinals in our backyard, who call me Queen Mommy, and say I’m the best one ever.  They, who have forgiven me repeatedly the last few weeks as my temper has gotten the best of me more often than I’d like to admit.  That little dude who petted my hair and patted my back as I pulled him from the crib this morning.   He, who keeps begging me to play the same game over and over.  “O-gain, Mommy?  O-gain?” These people, with whom my God blessed me, they are the balm to my soul.

Though the fear and worry rise and fall like dangerous, angry waves on the ocean, I know that over all of this, the Lord God is in control.  Though the waves crash about the boat, I hear Jesus calling to me.

Come.

He beckons me to approach.  To walk through the tempests of stress and fear.  To not lose sight of His sweet face.

Come.

Like a child walking for the first time.  Like the lame that He heals and directs to stand.

Come.

In the moments when the fear and worry crash around me, I call His name.  I will not lose faith.  Because, no matter what happens, the Lord has a greater plan.  He will bring greater good out of all of this.

Come. 

I have doubted before.  I have wavered in His goodness.  And I sank.  The water swirled around me and I thought that I might drown.  But in His infinite mercy, He saved me.  I will not lose faith this time.

I will keep coming.  Each moment, each hour, each day, I will keep stepping out in faith.  When the waves of doubt crash around me, I will anchor myself in prayer and my family.  I will keep my focus on His sweet and loving face.

And I will come. 

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; ⁷ and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Phil 4:6-7